Tis hard to refuse when a young lover

sues

So she couldn't but choose to go off to the dancing.

And now on the green, the glad groups

are seen

Each gay-hearted lad with the lass of his choosing;

And Pat, without fail, leads our sweet Kitty Neil

Somehow, when he asked, she ne'er thought of refusing.

Now, Felix Magee puts his pipes to his knee,

And, with flourish so free, sets each couple in motion;

With a cheer and a bound the lads patter the ground

The maids move round just like swans on the ocean.

Cheeks bright as the rose-feet light as the doe's,

Now coyly retiring, now boldly advancing

Search the world all round, from the sky to the ground,

No such sight can be found as an Irish lass dancing!

Sweet Kate! who could view your bright

eyes of deep blue,

Beaming humidly through their dark lashes so mildly,

Your fair-turned arm, heaving breast, rounded form,

Nor feel his heart warm, and his pulses throb wildly?

Young Pat feels his heart, as he gazes, depart,

Subdued by the smart of such painful yet sweet love;

The sight leaves his eye, as he cries with a sigh,

"Dance light, for my heart it lies un der your feet, love!”

SOGGARTH AROON.

JOHN BANIM.

Am I the slave they say,
Soggarth aroon?

Since you did show the way,
Soggarth aroon,

Their slave no more to be,

While they would work with me
Ould Ireland's slavery,
Soggarth aroon?

Why not her poorest man,
Soggarth aroon,

Try and do all he can,
Soggarth aroon,

Her commands to fulfil
Of his own heart and will,
Side by side with you still,
Soggarth aroon?

Loyal and brave to you,
Soggarth aroon,

Yet be no slave to you,
Soggarth aroon,-

Nor, out of fear to you,
Stand up so near to you—
Och! out of fear to you!
Soggarth aroon !

Who, in the winter's night,
Soggarth aroon,

When the cowld blast did bite,
Soggarth aroon,

Came to my cabin-door,
And, on my earthen flure
Knelt by me, sick and poor,
Soggarth aroon?

Who, on the marriage-day,
Soggarth aroon,

Made the poor cabin gay,
Soggarth aroon-

And did both laugh and sing,
Making our hearts to ring,
At the poor christening,
Soggarth aroon?

Who, as friend only met,
Soggarth aroon,

Never did flout me yet,
Soggarth aroon?

And when my heart was dim,
Gave, while his eye did brim,
What I should give to him,
Soggarth aroon?

I'LL NEVER GET DRUNK ANY MORE.

T. EAGAN.

ONE night when I got frisky
Over some poteen whisky,
Like waves in the Bay of Biscay
I began to tumble and roar.
My face was red as a lobster,
I fell and I broke my nob, sir;
My watch was picked from my fob, sir-
Oh! I'll never get drunk any more.

Now am I resolved to try it;
I'll live upon moderate diet,
I'll not drink, but will deny it,

And shun each public door;
For that's the place, they tell us,
We meet with all jovial good fellows;
But I swear by the poker and bellows,
I'll never get drunk any more!

The landlady is unwilling
To credit you for a shilling;
She straightways sends her bill in,
And asks you to pay your score.
And if with money you're stock'd,
She'll not stop till she's emptied your
pocket;

When the cellar door is locked,

And you cannot get drunk any more.

So by me now take caution,
Put drinking out of fashion,

For your own brains out you're dashing,
Don't you feel your head quite sore?
For when all night you've tarried,
Drinking of punch and claret,

In the morning home you're carried, Saying, "I'll never get drunk any more."